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Chapter 169 – The Basilisk's Gaze!!
As the silence stretched, Harry finally tore his eyes away from Darren.
His stomach twisted with anxiety again as he watched Dumbledore examine Mrs. Norris.
What if Dumbledore thought he and Darren had done it?
What if he took the blame onto himself—just like Darren always did?
No…
If Harry tried to confess, Darren would almost certainly panic and rush to take the blame first.
And Snape—Harry had no doubt—would seize the moment to propose expelling both of them at once.
He could practically hear Snape's sarcastic voice suggesting it.
Harry's chest tightened. Snape hated him—and Darren—far too much.
Last year, Harry had even suspected Snape was behind Darren's mysterious injuries.
Darren had begged him to trust Snape, insisting it was nothing.
Harry wanted to believe him.
But seeing Snape now—glaring at him as if they were mortal enemies—Harry's old suspicions came roaring back.
Darren was simply too kind… too naive.
Snape must have tricked him, or forced him to hide the truth.
Harry let out a long breath, then looked directly at Snape.
Snape's cold, contemptuous stare met his, full of loathing—loathing Harry couldn't understand.
Dumbledore himself had said James Potter saved Snape's life.
So why did Snape look at Harry like he had wronged him?
Before Harry could dwell on it further, Lockhart broke the tension.
"It must've been a spell," Lockhart declared gravely. "Some form of Transfiguration torture—horrible magic. If only I'd been here! I could certainly have saved her."
Filch let out a broken sob.
"Mrs. Norris… my poor Lady Norris… They all know. They all know I'm a Squib. Harry Potter saw the letter… He'll tell everyone…"
His voice cracked.
"And that little brat—after Harry Potter read my letter—came running to me, saying he'd help him… And then he spent hours scrubbing my office! Who helps a janitor?" he wailed.
Even the usually irritated professors looked at him with a flicker of pity.
But compared to Darren—pale, trembling, still trying to shield Harry—Filch's misery drew almost no sympathy.
Snape's lip curled.
"Why would he murder your cat and then clean your office for hours? Do you believe he's that stupid? Or that patient?"
"Then who did it?" Filch snapped. "Who else would? Who—?"
His glare snapped to Harry.
"It wasn't that brat— it was you! You knew I'm a Squib! You look down on me—"
"Enough."
Dumbledore's voice cut through Filch's rant like a blade.
"Argus, Lady Norris is not dead."
Filch froze.
"But—she's stiff—frozen—"
"She's petrified," Dumbledore said calmly. "Exactly as Darren observed earlier."
Filch let out a gasp.
"I knew it! That brat— I heard nothing, not one spell! Only you, Headmaster—and that brat—know she's petrified! He must've done this to show off—petrify her and then save her to get attention!"
"Potter would need brains for that," Snape drawled. "If he had them, he might've petrified you instead, sparing us this whining."
Harry blinked.
For once, Snape's rudeness felt… almost reasonable.
Filch sputtered, but Dumbledore cut him off again.
"Second-year students cannot perform magic this advanced."
"But Darren Porter is exceptional!" Filch insisted. "He brewed that new antidote—maybe he could do it!"
Then he suddenly swung toward Snape.
"Professor, didn't you say he'd sneaked out before? I heard the students talking— you said it yourself!"
Ah.
So that's why Dumbledore's gaze had been strange earlier.
Darren suppressed a sigh.
Of course Snape's attempt to provoke him earlier had come back to bite him.
Snape stiffened—clearly not expecting his own manipulative words to resurface at the worst possible moment.
"Well," Snape said in a low voice, a cold smile tugging at his lips, "then let us ask young Potter. Perhaps he can explain everything…"
All eyes turned to Darren.
He briefly considered saying he'd had diarrhea.
But a Saintly, self-sacrificing Darren Porter could not possibly blame anything so crude.
So…
A familiar chime echoed in his mind.
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[Ding, sensing that there is a scene of the Holy Father system playing around the host, now releaseing a temporary task:
In front of everyone, with a pale and shaken expression, say:
"I… I don't know why, but recently I keep hearing strange voices… whispering about killing… tearing…
During the feast, I heard them again.
They kept moving, so I followed.
The sound seemed to stop near the girls' bathroom on the lower floor.
I stayed there for a long time, trying to keep it from leaving—but eventually… it moved on again…"
Reward upon completion: Gaze of the Basilisk
Accept?
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